


Another Time, Another Place

by RhymePhile



Category: Oz (TV), Wanted (TV)
Genre: Banter, Crossover, Humor, M/M, Mild Language, Police, Prison, Sexual Tension, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-10
Updated: 2009-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-10 15:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhymePhile/pseuds/RhymePhile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>U.S. Marshal Eddie Drake faces off against the manipulative con Chris Keller. A straight-forward interrogation turns into something more than Eddie expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Time, Another Place

**Author's Note:**

> Written in answer to a [lyrics challenge prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/oz_rapsheet/161899.html?thread=358507#t358507).

  
The lyrics prompt is from the song "Trigger Happy Jack" by Poe.

_And I hate myself  
Just enough to want him  
But I hate him  
Just enough to get off  
But I understand him  
Maybe I'm just crazy enough  
To love him_

  
Fading sunlight had begun streaming through the creases in the hotel room's shoddy blinds by the time he returned, bottle of Jack and a tub of ice in his hand.

He poured himself a drink and collapsed uncomfortably into the hard chair. As he sat there watching the sun setting through the cubes and whiskey, he never would have imagined how a simple operation could have turned into a clusterfuck of such enormous proportions.

He sighed, recklessly gulping from the glass. Maybe getting shit-faced would dull the growing ache in his chest.

It was supposed to be easy: fly in to New York, flash his U.S. Marshals badge, interview some shit-for-brains con, get the shit-for-brains to spill his guts about the man they were hunting, and be back in sunny California before he overcame the jetlag.

Now, almost five days and countless bottles later, Eddie Drake had a problem.

His name was Chris Keller.

Eddie was trying to find out information about a fugitive who had recently come to L.A., got involved in a drug sting, and had somehow managed to disappear. He wasn't first on the Task Force's list of priorities, but for the highly illegal -- and experimental -- drug Oxaliplatin, his boss Connie made an exception. He wanted this guy. So after exhausting all their leads in LA, Eddie came out to New York to talk with Keller, an old friend of the fugitive.

Their initial interactions had been frustrating. Eddie felt like he was banging his head against the wall after every question, because Keller refused to answer. No doubt adhering to the unspoken code of convicts everywhere, Keller would only sit and glare with a smirk on his face, despite promises of a different pod, better food -- anything that would get him to talk. But he refused it all with a maddeningly pleasant smile. It was enough to make Eddie want to smack him, which only made Keller grin even more broadly.

Yesterday Keller finally talked, after three full days of fruitless conversation. Eddie remembered slamming his hand on the table in frustration and letting out an agonized growl when it happened.

"Maybe we should just sit here and talk about the goddamned weather, then!"

"If the bars on the window are wet, it's raining," Keller had said.

Eddie had only grunted at his flippant retort.

"This is pissin' you off, ain't it?"

Eddie had sighed and brushed the hair out of his face. "Wasting my time in this shithole talking to you? You got that right, motherfucker."

"Don't bother me any," Keller had replied.

"Why is that?"

"Got nothin' better to do."

"Nothing better to do than fuck with me, you mean?"

Keller had once more given him that infuriating grin. "I don't mind seeing a pretty face now and then. Fuckin' with you is a bonus."

Back in the present, Eddie sipped at his drink again, trying to remember if that comment was when this whole thing started. At the time he had ignored it, chalking it up to a con enjoying the fact that he was getting under Eddie's skin.

It got to a point where Keller would only speak to him if Eddie strayed away from questions about the case. He would engage in conversation about the beaches of California, or cars, or what Eddie liked on his hamburgers. That was annoying enough, but the way Keller did it -- with a disarming grin -- made him feel unsettled.

And not angry unsettled. Weird, heat-sinking-to-his-groin unsettled.

It was something he hadn't felt in a long time. He was used to buying a girl a drink, making small talk, and then waiting for the look that told him it was time to head back to her apartment. Then there were the moments in which he turned some _guy's_ head. And Eddie, being Eddie, fully embraced the chase. It opened up the field on a slow Friday night too, so whether it was a leggy brunette or a hairy one, Eddie had no qualms about bedding men or women.

Going home with someone wasn't a challenge; it was more of...drinking until the inevitable.

Sure, he knew how to flirt and turn on the charm, and his long blonde hair and blue eyes didn't hurt his chances of getting laid. But he never felt that flustered twinge in his stomach -- the nervous thrill, the seeking of acceptance, the need to be noticed.

When he was around Keller, however...

He swallowed another gulp of the fiery whiskey and considered what was going on here.

The interrogations had been a lost cause since he arrived, and he knew it. Keller wasn't going to tell him shit. He was wasting time and Task Force money by basically sitting here with his thumb up his ass, and Connie was _not_ going to be happy. He should have flown home after the first fucking day.

So what the hell was he doing?

He thought about Keller, sitting on the hard plastic chair of the interrogation room that afternoon, legs splayed wide open and radiating pure lust with every glance he gave Eddie. The sight of those blue eyes burning into him had made Eddie twitch in his pants, which Keller noted with an arched eyebrow and a lick of his bottom lip.

Fuck.

A U.S. Marshal was not supposed to be getting a hard-on in the middle of an interview. And he wasn't supposed to be getting one now when remembering it.

Eddie kept one hand on the whiskey glass and let the other drift down to his crotch, stroking his thumb over the seam. He sighed, imagining the piercing blue eyes of the man in the dull, gunmetal gray prison uniform watching him.

Eddie knew he was showing weakness during their interviews. He shouldn't have been telling Keller about personal shit. It made him look like a fool, and it made it easier for Keller to control the interrogations. Showing any type of vulnerability to a con was a huge mistake. Keller was playing him like a goddamned amateur.

He would be professional. He would be a hard-ass, steely-eyed, cold-blooded U.S. Marshal. Do the job, and go home. Fuck this half-wit con.

Then the way Keller smiled at him flashed across Eddie's mind. He cursed at the involuntary reaction in his pants.

This was going to be more difficult than he thought.

* * *

The following day was sunny and brilliant, which made no difference whatsoever when entering Oz. Its institutional gray-on-gray color scheme cast an immediate pall over everyone and everything, blotting out summer's existence the moment the doors closed.

He checked his gun and his badge and signed in, and was escorted down toward the interview rooms by the CO Murphy.

"Back again, huh?"

"I keep trying," Eddie croaked, rubbing his hand over his eyes. He'd definitely had too much whiskey last night.

"You might as well sit there and bang your head against the table. The two of them got history. He ain't gonna talk."

"You know that for a fact?"

"No," Murphy admitted, "but even though he may not look it, Keller's smart as hell. Manipulative, too. He knows what to say and how to say it."

"I can play his game."

"You think so," the CO grinned knowingly, "but _he's_ making the rules."

Murphy led him into the small room, where Keller was already seated, his hands cuffed behind his back. He looked up with unmitigated hatred at Murphy. Eddie merely warranted a scowl.

"Is that necessary?" Eddie asked, referring to Keller's cuffs.

"Keller was a bad boy this morning, weren't you, Keller? He's lucky he isn't in the Hole right now."

"Fuck you sideways, Murph."

"Behave yourself," the CO said, and left.

The two men met eyes, but Eddie was the one to look away first. Despite being across the table and having Keller handcuffed, he still felt vulnerable.

"Hard night?" Keller asked.

Eddie looked across at him and tried for professionalism. "None of your goddamn business. Can we just get on with this?"

"Sure, Marshal," Keller said out of the side of his mouth. "I'm feelin' generous."

"Thank _Christ_. Now," Eddie said, shuffling papers in front of him, "do you know what Oxaliplatin is?"

"Do I look like I been to college?"

"It's a powerful pharmaceutical, and illegal in this country."

"So?"

"So it's also the reason we're tracking our suspect. Our suspect was one of a number of people who were observed visiting a doctor in L.A., a man notorious for dealing in Oxaliplatin. The doctor spilled his guts about everyone he's sold the stuff to."

"Spilled his guts, huh? I'm sure his sentence will be reduced for bein' a rat," Keller said disgustedly.

"Maybe. Do you know Dr. Sparrow?"

Keller shrugged.

"No? That's interesting, because he knows you."

"Lot of Kellers in the world."

"Not many doing time in Oz with a blonde, blue-eyed lawyer who matches the description of the guy we have on surveillance video coming out of Dr. Sparrow's office."

Keller's eyes flickered. "Like L.A. isn't filled with blonde, blue-eyed guys?"

Eddie sighed. "Stop playing me, Keller. He's wanted for questioning. This shit is really powerful, and experimental. It's only been tested on lab animals."

"Sucks for the monkeys."

"We've been wondering why a guy whose only previous convictions for vehicular manslaughter and DUI would get involved in the illegal pharmaceutical drug trade all of a sudden," Eddie said.

"He never listened to Just Say No?"

"Keller," Eddie said, growing annoyed, "where is Tobias Beecher?"

The handcuffed man only laughed, and leaned back in the chair. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Hopefully where none of you motherfuckers are gonna find him."

"Do you know we tracked his last whereabouts to your ex-wife's apartment?"

Keller showed it only for a moment, but there was an obvious look of surprise.

"After he left Bonnie's place we lost him," Eddie said, "and she wasn't too forthcoming with information."

"That's my girl."

"She's been sick, your ex-wife?"

"Keep her the fuck outta this," Keller growled.

"We didn't find anything at her place, if that's what you're wondering, despite the search warrant. We don't want her. We want your jailhouse fuck boy."

Keller's jaw shifted as he shot Eddie a dark look.

Now it was Eddie's turn to grin. "Touchy subject, huh, Keller?"

"Fuck off."

"You don't like being all alone?"

Keller got back in his face. "Do you?"

"Who said I was alone?"

"Please," Keller said, rolling his eyes.

"What would you know?"

"You been drinkin' the troubles away, Marshal?"

Eddie inwardly flinched. "I don't know what..."

"I used to be like that, y'know," Keller said, sinking back into his chair to get comfortable. "Drinkin' whenever I got depressed, or angry, or...lonely."

"Do I look depressed?" he sighed, putting up a front.

"Nah. And angry ain't your style. You're more of a slow-burn type of guy, am I right? The teeth come out when your back's against the wall."

Eddie didn't answer the infuriatingly personal question, nor did he acknowledge the fact that Keller was right. Once again, he was losing the upper hand in this confrontation.

"So that leaves lonely, don't it?" Keller grinned. "All these nights out here, alone, dealin' with the 'dregs of humanity' as they say. Must really grate on a guy. Betcha that hotel room keeps lookin' more and more empty every night. You have problems with the ladies? The girls don't like the pretty gold curls?"

"Stop it..."

"Maybe it's the mustache? They don't like that when they're trying to kiss you, right? You need someone who can appreciate the rough, angry feel of it against skin..."

Eddie could feel a flush rising in his cheeks when Keller said that. "Stop..."

"Hmm, now that I think about it, those lips are wasted on women. Blowjobs, on the other hand..."

"_Enough_!" Eddie yelled, pounding his fist against the table. "Just..." He exhaled, calming himself. "Just...enough, okay? You're driving me fucking nuts."

"A U.S. Marshal who don't like to hear the facts?" Keller grinned innocently. "Or admit the truth?"

"Truth about what?"

"You already know I'm not telling you jack shit about where Toby is, even if I knew. Why are you still here?"

Eddie angrily moved the papers on the desk back into the folder, attempting to distract himself from the question. He knew Keller wasn't going to offer up any information. He knew this was all a waste of time. He knew trying to come across as tough and no-nonsense wouldn't work the moment he glanced up into those blue eyes.

"I have a job to do..."

"_Bullshit_." Keller looked him up and down, as if taking measure of Eddie. "This turned into something more than just finding out about Toby...didn't plan on that, did you?"

He cleared his throat. "Now...now you're the one spouting bullshit."

"I don't think so," Keller said, cocking his head to consider the man sitting before him. "I think you're enjoying this."

"You're doing that on purpose."

"What's that?"

"All that..." Eddie nervously weaved his fingers through his hair. "Talk to make me uncomfortable."

"Does it?" Keller asked, leaving the question hanging.

Keller slowly rose from his chair, his body flowing in one smooth motion, not taking notice of the awkward angle in which his arms were placed. He only brought attention to his handcuffed state when he flexed his muscles to ease the tension in his shoulders.

Eddie's eyes never left him, from the way Keller's chest became broader as he stood, to the way the tattoo on his shoulder seemed to dance with movement.

He hated himself for allowing this to happen. He'd never had a problem keeping the job and his personal life separate. Despite all the shit he'd seen, the images would disappear in moments at the bottom of a beer mug or tequila shot glass. He could disconnect and turn his mind to other, more important things -- like pussy.

He should have been able stare this guy down, to look Keller in the eyes and stop the surging heat that was rushing to his stomach and balls.

But Eddie blinked.

When Keller came closer, Eddie stood up, abruptly knocking over his chair as he did so. He started to stand his ground, but Keller kept advancing until he had pressed Eddie against the far wall.

He was now inches away from Eddie's face.

"Step any closer and you'll be sorry," Eddie breathed.

"Will _you_?" Keller purred.

With that the door burst open and Murphy came running, along with another CO. Keller merely smirked at the excitement and nonchalantly backed away from Eddie.

"Didn't I tell you to be good, Keller?" Murphy huffed, pushing Keller back. "Why are you bustin' my balls so early in the morning, for fuck's sake?"

Murphy looked from Keller over to Eddie, who was pressed against the wall, panting heavily.

"He didn't touch you, did he Marshal?"

"He...didn't, no."

Somewhere in the immediacy of his response, Eddie suddenly realized that he sounded disappointed.

Keller had noticed it, too. He was smiling as he was being led from the room.

* * *

"I don't know what the problem is..."

"The problem is that you want me to allow you unsupervised access to a guy who, aside from the obvious fact that he's a convicted murderer, also tried to attack you yesterday morning!"

Eddie sighed at the histrionics of Tim McManus, the director of the Emerald City unit. He was tall and balding, with a personality that gave him a sense of authority to the extent that Eddie already didn't like the guy.

"He didn't try to attack me. It was a misunderstanding."

"When the word 'misunderstanding' and 'Keller' go together I get bodies in the morgue."

"McManus, listen, I just want to get this over with, okay? He's not willing to talk to me with so many eyes on him."

"No shit. This is Oz."

"Then give me my time. This is a major drug bust in L.A., and if I can coax more information out of him, I can get the hell out of here and keep the Marshals service and the L.A. County Fugitive Task Force off your front porch."

Eddie was playing his best game of "suck up to the superior" that he had perfected in recent years. He may have been a screw-up, but he had a gift for bullshit.

McManus sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"I'll give you an hour. He'll be shackled. No exceptions. I have enough problems around here without having the death of a U.S. Marshal on my hands."

Eddie nodded. "I appreciate the help."

"I don't know what good it'll do you."

"There's one more thing..."

"No offense, Marshal, but if it'll get you out of Oz, just let me know what it is."

"I want Keller's jacket, with complete arrest history and anything else that might give me the upper hand. I'd also like to hear more about the relationship between Beecher and Keller. It'll help me in the interview."

"I'll see if Sister Pete can give you something."

"She's the prison shrink?"

"Yeah."

Eddie waved his hand. "I don't want to step on toes here, McManus, or mess with doctor/patient confidentiality. If she's agreeable, I wouldn't mind reading her thoughts on their relationship. She doesn't have to go into specifics. Don't mention we're looking for Beecher -- just tell her we're working on a case and her insight would be helpful."

"I'll see what I can do."

Eddie leaned over to shake his hand. "Thanks."

* * *

That evening, with yet another tumbler of whiskey in his hand, Eddie perused Keller's jacket file. He probably should have done this from the beginning, but it honestly never occurred to him that this was going to be such a difficult assignment.

Most guys with rap sheets like Keller's were only petty thugs: they lived fast and loose, snorted a line now and again, broke a few rules, maybe punched a cop. Keller had been in prison before, but until his time in Oz he'd been locked up for little shit. Either his crimes had suddenly escalated right before he earned his 88 years in Oz, or there were other things Keller had gotten away with. Robberies, maybe. Bodies were more likely.

His personal history was even more interesting. Sister Pete was kind enough to give her opinion of Keller: "Sociopath; prone to depression; can be manipulative and persuasive if it suits him; exudes a superficial charm; but often exhibited uncharacteristic loving behavior toward Tobias Beecher."

Keller did seem to have let his guard down when it came to this Tobias Beecher. Eddie thought he was nothing more than a jailhouse fuck, but the file indicated otherwise.

This made things much clearer. The realization struck Eddie at that moment. He had been completely blind .for the past few days, and now the file opened his eyes. It was clear what needed to be done.

He reached for the phone.

* * *

Keller was handcuffed with his arms behind him. His feet had been shackled too, just as McManus promised. Keller could do nothing more than growl and shuffle like an old man when Murphy brought him in.

"We're doin' this again, huh? I got better fuckin' things to do than talk to you."

"I'm sure one more hour without jerking off won't kill you."

Keller grinned at that. "Yeah, well."

Eddie sat down across from him on the couch. Sister Pete had graciously offered him use of her office, which was slightly more comfortable than the sterile environment of the room they were in yesterday.

Keller tried to find a comfortable position for his legs in the hard-backed chair, but it was obviously impossible.

"This was the only way McManus would allow me to talk to you," Eddie said by way of explanation for the shackles.

"You mean alone," Keller said, looking around Pete's office.

Eddie nodded.

"Easier for them to say they didn't see nothin' when you beat me down? Right? You can try, motherfucker," Keller hissed angrily, pulling at the shackles.

"For Chrissake, Keller, relax. I'm not some stupid CO."

Keller offered him a hard stare, but the tension in his neck and shoulders eased visibly.

"It's hard without him here, isn't it?" Eddie asked.

"Who?"

"Toby."

"We've been through this," he sighed, annoyed.

Eddie scratched at his chin. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm done, Keller. You win. You're not saying anything about his whereabouts, and my case is fucked. Got it."

Keller eyed him warily.

"I'm serious," Eddie continued. "I made the call last night."

"Then why..."

"Exit interview, of sorts. I need _something_ to write up. Connie's going to have my balls in a sling, but when he reads what a pain in the ass you were..."

"Marshals don't give exit interviews," Keller noted, easing back into the chair.

Eddie realized the other man's body language had changed suddenly.

"How would you know?"

"I've had everyone from police commissioners to the FBI come to the party, but none of them ever got me to dance." Keller laughed. "I'm not goin' ass up for a Marshal."

"Good to know you have standards," said Eddie sarcastically.

"So that leaves us with that unanswered question, doesn't it, Eddie?"

Eddie blinked at the use of his name.

"Why are you still here?"

He wanted to snap back quickly and say it was all about the job, but he knew he couldn't. Keller's eyes were boring into him, as if waiting on an answer he deemed acceptable. The other man didn't look away -- he merely kept staring, his face placid.

Then Keller's tongue flitted out and slid along his bottom lip.

Eddie could feel the heat instantly sink into his stomach. He shifted on the couch.

"Yeah, I thought so," Keller said, grinning triumphantly.

"You expect that reaction all the time?"

"With some men, yeah."

"You mean gay men?"

"Horny men."

Eddie scoffed.

"If my hands were uncuffed and I slid my fingers through the top of your jeans you wouldn't be hard right now?"

The tone in which the question was asked made Eddie realize the man sitting in front of him had more than just a casual allure about him. He exuded masculinity and power -- which was sexy in itself -- but it was also clear he usually got what he wanted. To Eddie that meant he was intriguing _and_ dangerous.

It also meant that as much as he got flustered with Keller in the room, the man was still a criminal. Eddie had been entertaining a fantasy for the past few days, and an impossible one at that. Keller's file was all the proof he needed. It was time to get his dick back in his pants where it belonged.

"If I took the cuffs off," Eddie said before Keller could speak again, "what would you do?"

Keller met Eddie's eyes. "Is that a challenge, _Eddie_?"

This time Eddie held the stare. "You've been enjoying the little back-and-forth between us all week. Getting off on making me squirm. Having fun at my expense."

"It wasn't hard, Eddie. I see the way you look at me -- you were surprised at first, am I right? You couldn't believe you were thinkin' the way you were. The only reason you've been here as long as you have is because you like the way I make you feel."

"That's..."

"The truth," Keller finished.

Eddie reached beside him for the ring of keys and moved from the couch to Keller's feet. With a move perfected after hundreds of similar moments over the years, he unlocked the shackles from Keller's ankles. He didn't look up when he likewise reached behind Keller's arms and unlocked the handcuffs and dropped them to the floor.

Keller unconsciously rubbed his wrists and rolled his shoulders to loosen them from being behind his back all that time. He stood, and hovered over Eddie sitting on the couch.

"Afraid to admit you've been wantin' me this whole time, Marshal?"

Eddie stood up and got inside Keller's personal space. It made the other man waver for a moment in surprise.

"No, Chris," he said, enjoying the look on Keller's face when he used his first name. "But I read your jacket. And even if I offered you the world to blow me right now, you and I both know you wouldn't do a thing."

Keller pressed his lips against Eddie's ear. "You seem really sure about that."

"You've been playing me. It's the same reason you wouldn't say shit about Tobias Beecher."

Keller pulled away from Eddie. "Why's that?"

"You're in love with him."

The statement was met with a scowl and a quirk of an eyebrow.

"You'd rather make life miserable for yourself than be unfaithful," Eddie said, "which it will, after jerking me around for the past few days."

Keller grinned. "It was worth it just to see that look on your face."

"You enjoy having that power, don't you?"

"To know a federal Marshal wouldn't think twice about being bent over the desk here, just because of the way I looked at him? Hell yeah I enjoy it. You're the one who wouldn't leave it alone."

"I was trying to do my job."

"Maybe, at first. The rest of the time your mind was on your dick."

This, Eddie had to admit, was indeed the truth. He'd known it from the moment he felt that heat sink into his stomach.

Eddie sighed and sat down on the couch. He ran a hand through his hair.

"Your case is fucked, Eddie."

"It is. That's what happens when you think with your dick."

Keller laughed in spite of the situation. "Now what, Marshal?"

"Now I guess they're going to punish you," Eddie said.

"Makes sense. You get used to it after a while."

"One thing I don't understand is why."

"My life is one, long, constant circle of hell. Eat, sleep, shit," Keller said matter-of-factly. "I got nothin' to lose. If it weren't for knowing Toby is safe -- and hopefully happy -- out there somewhere, I'd be dead."

"You're loyal to a guy you may never see again?"

Keller shrugged. "The heart wants what it wants."

Eddie picked up the phone and called the CO station, asking for Murphy to come and escort Keller to wherever in the bowels of Oz they chose to place him for punishment.

Keller flopped back into the chair opposite the couch and waited his fate with a look of pure contentment on his face.

"Can I ask you one last thing if you promise to answer truthfully?"

"Depends what it is," Keller answered.

"If we had been in a different situation, what would you have done?"

"You mean if this wasn't Oz, and life wasn't the way it is?"

"Yeah."

"You would have had the ride of your life, Eddie," Keller stated, with that irritatingly self-satisfied grin he had been flashing for the past few days.

Eddie nodded, and sighed again. "The heart wants what it wants."


End file.
